strip me down all of my defenses
by Kiseki-no-neko
Summary: His eyes took on a fierce quality, his thumb running along her jaw line, "I've always believed in you, Alex, I just…wanted to protect you from this." -Oneshot- -Michael/Alex-


strip me down (all of my defenses)

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><p>Disclaimer: Not mine, if it was, MichaelAlex would be canon!

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><p>By: Bunny-chan<p>

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><p>Author's Notes<p>

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><p>I DON'T KNOW OKAY! I can't believe I'm going mainstream and writing pr0n and owning up to it, ugggh. I am so nervous I am so nervous! *hides face* Apparently, I cannot write pr0n without a large amount of plot...my bad? Um, so yeah, set sometime after Alex becomes an agent, but before she starts a relationship with Nathan, he's not even mentioned, heh. This was written for the Porn Battle, over on el jayDW, look it, because I'm not bothering trying to do stoopid links on here! Hopefully, this will get more people to write Michael/Alex, c'mon guys, I know y'all are out there, just 'cause Michael/Nikita is canon, doesn't mean we have to roll over and give up! -cheers!- Go M/A shippers! Also, not beta-read, so any mistakes are my own, but if anybody WANTS to be my beta-reader -hinthint- feel free to contact me! I hope you guys enjoy this!

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><p>It was one thing to agree to the op without complaining, it was another thing altogether to actually be <em>doing<em> it. She knew he had argued with Percy to try and get her out of it, but Percy had promptly shut him down. If she let herself think about it too long, it hurt a little, to think that he didn't trust she could get it done. She had been over the op with Percy, Birkhoff had let her know he'd be watching every step of the way, and she had been over everything with Amanda. She was _ready_, she could do it, why did he think otherwise?

She caught up with him in one of the many hallways, touching his arm to get him to stop, "Michael."

He didn't look at her, his entire body tense, and she frowned, "Why don't you think I can do this?"

He finally looked at her, hazel eyes blazing, "It's a fucking _strip club_, Alex!"

The fact that he had cursed, and the anger in his voice made her take a step backwards, "Yeah, but I won't actually be stripping."

He exhaled harshly, "You might not be getting naked, but you still shouldn't be doing it."

She crossed her arms over her chest, "Yeah, okay, thanks _dad_," she sneered, "I can do this, it won't be a problem, you're doing the hard part after all."

It was another kill job, but instead of making her do it, surprise surprise, it was Michael that was going to be killing their mark. And as much as she felt she had to prove to them, and to herself, she knew she wasn't a killer, she didn't think she ever would be. She had to remind herself more than ever that Division was the enemy, and she didn't owe them a damn thing, but she did owe him, and even though he should be seen as an enemy, he wasn't, not to her. She didn't like to dwell on why his opinion meant so much to her, more than it should.

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, "Just…look out for yourself, okay?"

She gave a grim half-smile, "I've been doing that my whole life, and besides, you'll be there if I need you, my guardian angel, remember?"

That brought a small smile out of him, and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder, "Yeah, I'll be there, but if anything happens…"

"I'll get myself out of there, no problem." She didn't know what made her reach up to place her hand over his, but she did, and he lifted their hands to tangle their fingers together, squeezing again, as if to give her some of his strength.

"Come on, let's go over the details again." He kept her hand in his, as they walked down the hall towards his office, and she knew as long as he was near, she'd be okay.

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><p>Alex hated it, every goddamn part of the mission. She hated being on stage, nearly naked, covered by nothing but her bikini, she hated the way everyone looked at her, like she was a piece of meat. But she was good at pretending, she always had been, so she did her part, she danced and collected money, looked out for her mark, and mostly kept her eyes on Michael. And if she had to deal with men, and even women, grabbing at her to tuck money into her bikini bottom, then fine, she had dealt with worse.<p>

As she twisted around the pole, she spoke to Michael, "He still hasn't shown up?"

"Not yet, but I'm still on the lookout." His voice crackled in the earpiece she had concealed by her hair.

It was the second night they were there, and the mark still hadn't shown up. The more time that passed, the more antsy she grew, she seriously fucking hated it. She was more than glad when her time was up, and she hurried backstage, pulling money out of her panties, not even acknowledging the dancer that was taking her place. She wasn't surprised when she found Michael leaning against a wall in her dressing room. He was, after all, playing the part of her bodyguard, all part of the plan, get the mark to ask for a private dance, protest when he got too hands-on, have Michael rush in and kill him, all self-defense, of course. Of course, the plan couldn't work if there was no mark to pull it on.

"Maybe we were wrong." Was the first thing she said, as she slipped a robe on and sat down at her vanity to wipe away her make-up.

"No, Birkhoff went over it with a fine-tooth comb, this is where he shows up frequently, high class, but still a place for him to do his dealings without raising suspicions."

"Then why isn't he here, Michael?" She snapped without meaning to, but the job was fraying her nerves.

He narrowed his eyes at her, which she caught in the mirror, and tried not to wince, "I don't know, Alex," his voice held the same bite in it that hers had, "if I did, this wouldn't be an issue right now."

She yanked her short, brown wig off, letting her hair tumble down her shoulders, clenching her jaw to stop from yelling at him, because it wasn't his fault, but god, the op fucking sucked. She saw his eyes soften in the mirror, and he stepped closer to her, not touching her, but close enough so she could feel his body heat, "Look, everything's going to be alright, Alex, he'll show up tomorrow, and then we can get this over with."

She didn't answer him, but she hoped he wasn't making promises he couldn't keep.

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><p>And he <em>did<em> show up the next night, sitting as close to her as possible, tall, thin and exuding so much power that she could practically see it like an aura. She didn't have to dance for long before he was giving one of the managers money, hundreds, she knew, for just an hour of her time. She hopped off the stage, graceful in her towering heels as she met him halfway, taking his hand and leading him into one of the private rooms, that was really more like a mini-club than anything else.

She poured them both glasses of champagne, handing him a glass with a delicate smile, before sitting down next to him. She let him talk, about his life, his job (his legal one anyway, no way was he going to go into details about the drugs and illegal weapons he sold), nodding at the right places, giggling vapidly, and giving him seductive smiles. It reminded her of her very first op oh so long ago. But she wasn't that naïve girl anymore, she wasn't scared, not even when he curled his hands into the skin of her hips and pulled her close.

"Remember, Alex, don't let it get too far, scream, and I'll be right there." If she hadn't been expecting it, she would have jumped at the sound of Michael's voice in her ear.

She knew that, and she was tired of it. She was glad he wanted to protect her, but she wasn't a recruit anymore, she was an agent, and she was so sick of people not believing in her, Nikita, Michael, Amanda, Percy, even if the latter two were enemies, she still wanted everyone to know she could hold her own. No, Michael wouldn't be needed, not again. So when he pulled her into his lap, licked her neck and tugged at her bra, it wasn't hard to protest, to pull back and whisper to wait. And when she got the exact reaction she wanted, a growl and a shove to the floor, it was all the opportunity she needed. She rolled out of the way of his kick and bounded to her feet, punching him in the jaw.

It was a back and forth between them, kick, dodge, punch, block, and he got tired of it, pulling out a switchblade that made her laugh, almost hysterically. "Alex, what the hell is going on?" Michael hissed through her earpiece.

It was more than easy to ignore him, even though a large part of her was telling her to stick to the plan, scream so he could come crashing in, and kill the bastard. But no, she disarmed him swiftly, his wide eyed gaze imprinted in her mind when she slit his throat, his body crumpling to the ground, blood pouring out from his fatal wound, and she slid to the floor with him, dropping the knife like it was poison, as she scooted away from him and pulled her legs up to her chin.

That was how Michael found her when he finally barged in, sitting against the wall, staring vacantly at the puddle of blood, glass and champagne. He barely glanced at the body before he was in front of her, kneeling down to block her line of vision to the body, "Alex…" He cupped her face with one hand, pushing her hair out of her eyes with the other.

She gave him a smile that was wobbly at the edges and didn't reach her eyes, "I told you I'd get myself out, didn't I?"

"That wasn't what I meant." He murmured, "You were supposed to let me do it."

"Right, because you didn't think I could," she tried to jerk her head away, but he didn't let her, "none of you believe in me."

His eyes took on a fierce quality, his thumb running along her jaw line, "I've always believed in you, Alex, I just…wanted to protect you from this."

She blinked back sudden tears, "We're Division, Michael, agents, this is what we do, you can't protect me from that."

He sighed heavily, "You can't blame me for trying."

She nodded, and felt incredibly tired, "Michael…get me out of here."

And he did, swept her into his arms, cradling her like she was something precious, as he took the back way out to avoid anyone seeing them. When he made it to his car, he unlocked it, managed to open the passenger side without setting her down and placed her into the seat. He shut her door, and she immediately leaned her head against the window as he got into the driver's seat, closing the door behind him, "There's an outfit for you to change into in the back."

"Thanks." She murmured, but made no move to actually go change, as he started the car and drove away from the building.

When he stopped at a red light, he made a quick call back to Division, letting them know the job was done, promising to give a full report when they got back. When he hung up, she let her head tilt to the side, "How long?"

He understood what she was asking, "Less than fifteen minutes."

Since it was clear she wasn't going to be putting on actual clothes anytime soon, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her, just as the light turned green. If it was anyone else, she was pretty sure she'd feel offended, but it was Michael, so it was okay. She let her eyes droop shut, breathing in the scent of his jacket, just mere minutes, and the Cleaners would show up to take away the body, to destroy any trace that she had ever been there. There was something a little sickening about it all, she had just taken a life, and she would be _praised_ for it, while the guy would end up like he had never even existed, even if he had been scum.

The longer she kept her eyes closed, the clearer the images became, how easily she could slip into the persona she had tried so hard to escape. That Alexandra Udinov she had been trained to be, kill those that got in your way, don't let anyone get close, they were just hindrances, all that mattered at the end of the day was power. People like her didn't get happy endings, normal lives, family, a nine-to-five job that _didn't_ include murdering people. Hell, maybe she was meant to be in Division after all.

"Alex…" his voice cut into her thoughts, and she opened her eyes, blurred with tears, to turn her head towards him.

He frowned, keeping one eye on the road and the other on her, "Are you okay?"

Not even close, not by a long shot, but she just shrugged, "I've been better."

"It gets…easier."

She gave a watery laugh, he thought he was being sympathetic, "I don't _want_ it to get easier, Michael, taking another person's life shouldn't be as easy picking out an outfit for the day."

"We've been over this, Alex, we're Division, this is what we do, we take out the scum of the Earth to make things _better_ for people." He explained patiently.

Oh God, she didn't know whether to laugh in his face or shake him for his ignorance, because he _truly_ believed the words he said. And everybody thought _she_ was the naïve one. Her fingers clutched his jacket tightly, and she took in deep breaths, everything she had done creeping up her spine, and she needed to make it _stop_, "Pull over."

"What?" His voice was more than slightly bewildered.

"_Pull over, Michael_!" She all but screeched, satisfied when he pulled into some deserted parking lot.

She sucked in heaving breaths, her head dropping to rest on the dashboard, her entire body shaking, "Alex, what the hell?" His words were harsh, but his voice was concerned.

How could she possibly explain to him how she was feeling without putting doubt into his head about her being an agent? Tears fell from her eyes, sliding down the dashboard, "I don't want to be a killer, Michael, I don't want to play God, I don't…" She whimpered.

He undid his seatbelt and reached out to undo hers, pulling her into him and brushing his lips over her forehead, the contact making her shiver, "Maybe I should have put you in more training first, before-"

She jerked her head up, no, he was the only one in Division that was on her side, if he joined the ranks of Amanda and Percy, she would be completely and utterly screwed, her and Nikita's plan would be ruined, and she'd be dead, "No, Michael, please, I need you to believe in me, you're the only one that does."

He framed her face with his hands, pushing thick strands of her hair behind her ears, looking at her with such a tender look that it made her start crying all over again, "I've always believed in you, Alex, I'm not going to stop now, you're supposed to feel this after what just happened."

She laughed a little, leaning into his touch, "I think Amanda would disagree with you."

His mouth twisted into a grimace, "Fuck Amanda, if it was up to her, everybody would be a robot, no free will of their own, just something for her to control, and I'll be damned if I let that happen to you."

And it was when he said things like that, or took care of her the way he was doing at the moment, that made her certain, with every fiber of her being, that Michael didn't belong in Division, he wasn't a monster, cold-hearted, and unfeeling, no matter how hard he tried to be. He made it go away, he made the images of blood, and glass, and vacant eyes vanish, and she wanted more of it, all of him. So she leaned up and kissed him, damn the consequences.

He pulled back seconds later, hazel eyes wide, "Alex, what are you doing? You know better than that, we're not-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, no relationships for people in Division, it's a distraction, it's a complication, blah, blah, blah," she tilted her head up at him, a determined look in her eyes, "fine, I don't want a relationship, I just want you to make me _forget_."

His hands were on her shoulders, keeping her from repeating what she had just done, "Look, I get it, you're scared and vulnerable, it happens, but you don't need to do this to make it go away."

God, he was such a guy, so dense, didn't he get it at all? She would admit it if she had to, fine, she had to get him to understand, "It's not about that, Michael, why is it so hard for you to believe that I just want _you_? Yes, okay, I do want it to go away, but I want you to be the one to make it go away, if I just wanted sex, I could get that anywhere, but you…take care of me, Michael."

All she wanted was a choice, she had never gotten that for herself, everything had always been decided for her, or forced upon her, and she deserved to choose for herself, if sex was involved, she should be the one initiating it because she _wanted_ it, and she wanted him. He gave her a serious look, one she was used to seeing, really, "You don't know what you're asking for, Alex."

She glared at him, "I'm pretty sure I do, what's the problem, Michael?"

She ran a hand over his jaw line, down his neck, across his Adam's apple, "Do you want me to seduce you? Is that it? Because I can."

He breathed out a harsh, "_Fuck_."

She smiled at his reaction, "Just let me have this, Michael, just one time, I'll never ask again."

His hands moved from her shoulders to her waist, and she was scared he was going to push her away, but he just brought her closer, the way he touched her vastly different from the way the mark had. "Be sure of this, Alex."

She answered him with another kiss, one that he responded to, as she shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall at their feet. He pulled her onto his lap, and she ignored the dig of the steering wheel in her back, as she clawed at his shirt, unbuttoning it with hurried fingers. He pulled back slightly, curling a hand into her hair and tilting her head up, "We don't have to rush this."

In any other situation, the fact that he wanted to go slow, wanted it sweet and tender for her, would have made her smile, but as it stood, she wanted it the complete opposite. She pulled open his shirt, and raked her nails down his chest, causing him to hiss, "I don't want slow."

His eyes were dark with lust and understanding, she knew he understood why she wanted him, and why she wanted him at that moment. People dealt with their issues in different ways, so maybe her way was having the one man she trusted fuck her senseless. He pressed his lips to hers, licking at her mouth for entrance, that she easily granted, meeting his tongue with hers as he reached up to undo her bikini top. She shivered when her breasts were bared to the air, he nipped at her bottom lip as he pulled back, locking eyes with her, "Alex…"

She took one of his hands in hers, kissing his fingertips before placing it on her right breast, telling him without words just what she wanted. He took her other breast into his mouth, and she gasped out his name, curling a hand into his hair as she shifted her legs to straddle him. She rocked down against him, feeling him harden beneath her, and she continued the motion, relishing the way he trailed kisses up her collarbone to her neck, pushing her hair back to lick at the tattoo behind her ear. She wriggled against him again, wanting more friction, wanting more, more of him, _all _of him. It was clear he realized that because he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and tugging out a condom, and then he gazed at her with that oh-so-serious look again, "Are you sure about this?"

She smiled at him, touched by his concern, and the fact that he was willing to stop if she said the word, even though she knew he wanted it just as much as she did, "Of course I am."

And just to prove her point, she leaned back a little, the steering wheel was probably going to be imprinted into her back at that point, and unbuttoned his pants, sliding a hand into his boxers to grip him. He grunted, jerking his hips a little, just once, before he reached down with his free hand to grasp her wrist, removing her hand from his boxers, and she pouted a little. "It's not about me, Alex," he whispered, "let me take care of you."

He always did, looked out for her, protected her, showed her the way, and she wished they didn't live the lives they did, because maybe they could have had more than what they did. But there was no point in thinking about that, she knew better, best to just enjoy what she had. He placed the condom on top of the dashboard, bringing her into another kiss as he slid a hand into her bikini bottoms. Her cry was muffled by his mouth as he worked her, making sure she was ready for him, it was only when he brought her to the edge that he stopped, causing her to whine in protest.

He smoothed a thumb over her bottom lip, lifting them both up just enough to pull down his boxers, she barely touched him, running her fingernails along his length, and he shuddered at her touch. She looked up at him with hooded eyes as he grabbed the condom, and ripped open the foil with his teeth, the simple, yet seductive act making her shiver, and he slid the condom on, looking at her again, questioning without words if she wanted to keep going. She just kissed him again, and that was obviously answer enough, as he pushed aside the bikini bottoms just enough to slide into her, inch by inch.

She froze when he was finally inside of her, her hands tight on his shoulders, it had been a long time since she had last had sex, and her body wasn't used to it anymore. And she had never had sex with someone who was actually thinking about _her_ and what _she_ wanted, it was clear to her that was exactly what he was doing. She knew it was tough for him to stay still, his jaw was clenched, his eyes dark, and his fingers gripped onto her hips almost enough to bruise. She finally, _finally_ shifted her hips forward, and his head fell backwards, exposing his neck to her, and she took full advantage of it, as she rocked down.

She enjoyed the sounds he made as he met her stroke for stroke, he was so wonderfully undone, completely unlike the man she saw almost every day, unflappable and stoic. He was completely hers, even though it was temporary, nobody could take that away from her, and the knowledge of that made her speed up her movements, biting down into the skin where his neck met his shoulder. He cursed harshly, gripping her hips tighter and shifting to bury deeper inside of her, his thrusts gaining speed. Her eyes slid closed as she moaned, _so_ close, and he seemed to sense that, because he slid a hand down to where their bodies met, stroking her softly, it was just enough to shove her over the edge. As she rode out the aftershocks, he was quick to follow after her, groaning out her name. And if she cried a little when she came, well, he didn't call her out on it, and she was grateful for that and so much more, he had to know that, "Thank you."

He didn't slide out of her or move her, just reached up to wipe away her tears, "You're welcome."

They stayed like that for a few moments, just two people that understood each other despite how different they were. She tilted her head up and gave him another kiss, chaste and full of gratitude. He finally lifted her up and off of him and she sighed a little at the feeling she lost. He pulled open the glove compartment and handed her some tissues to clean up with, as he tugged off the used condom, rolling down the window to carelessly throw it out. She quickly cleaned herself up, fixing her bottoms and pulling on her discarded top, not looking at him as she crawled into the backseat, to snag the change of clothing. It wasn't that she was embarrassed, because she wasn't, she _had_ initiated it after all, she didn't want to see his reaction, she was scared he'd be closed off from her, think of it as a mistake, and she wouldn't be able to deal with that.

She pulled on the outfit quickly, business suit, Division attire, of course they'd be going straight back to HQ to report to Percy. He caught her gaze in the rearview mirror, "You okay?"

And he was still worried about her. She climbed back into the passenger seat, buckling herself up and sneaking a sideways look at him to see that he had tidied up just as quickly as she had, back to implacable Michael. "I'm fine." She leaned back in her seat as he started the car up, pulling out of the lot.

She gazed out of the window with heavy eyes and a heavier heart, she didn't want to go back, back to being the mole, the killer, the agent, being off-limits, and she didn't want to lose whatever it was she had with Michael. He took one hand off of the steering wheel to rest it on her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, "We'll be fine, Alex."

_We_, not you, well then, maybe she could do it after all, back to reality she went, with Michael at her side.


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